


Daft

by RuGrimm



Category: Wizard101
Genre: Commission work, Feelings Realization, Friendship/Love, M/M, school party, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-24
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-10-15 09:22:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,050
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17526050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RuGrimm/pseuds/RuGrimm
Summary: Malorn Ashthorn might have been a charming student teacher, but with that role comes a lot of responsibilities. Too overloaded with paperwork and expectations, Malorn begins to bury himself in his work. His roommate, Ceren, has other ideas. *Commission for EggEgg*





	Daft

 

_ “It’s all about who you look for in that crowded room; that’s where your heart belongs.” _

If things were as easy as Malistaire had made them out to be, Malorn Ashthorn bets he would be out doing the things his classmates were so eager to do. Fighting undead, riding ghosts, and summoning titans--these things would have been a part of his daily life. Instead, he’s sitting at a borish, oaken desk with stacks of paperwork and a crowded ledger filled to the brim with hastily scribbled notes and incomprehensible doodles. Tests had to be graded, lesson plans had to be written, and he didn’t want to even think about the apology he owed Kirby Longspear for that one ghoul incident. 

The necromancer runs both hands down his face, elbows on the desk, and rolls his eyes to the ceiling. At this rate, he’d graduate by the time he’d be old enough to retire from teaching. 

“Your stress is making this scene even more realistic,” mutters his dormmate. 

Ceren Nightchant smirks but doesn’t look away from his book. Reclining against a wall of pillows and his headboard, he can feel a tired glare from across the room. 

“What scene?” 

“Oh, you know… It’s this really emotional part where this smokin’ hot guy forgets that he has a social life and falls into the sea of hermitage and depression--never to be seen again,” he remarks, smirk widening. 

With an annoyed sigh, Malorn shakes his head and reaches across his desk for a quill to begin writing in the rest of his lesson plan. “You know this is the busiest time of year for this stuff. I have to get this all done before next semester starts. THEN, I can do whatever.”

“Malorn,” Ceren huffs, finally looking up over his book and across their humble dwelling. “The semester just ended. You have weeks. Would it kill you to take a night for yourself?” 

The raven-haired necromancer’s face scrunches slightly, and he opens his mouth to counter that the other wouldn’t know responsibility if a frost giant’s hammer hit him in the head… But he knows this isn’t one of his younger classmates (or rather: students); this is Ceren Nightchant. This is the student that worked for weeks on Ambrose’s special assignment in Unicorn Way. He’s the hardest working Life student he’s ever met, and for that reason, he respects the Tartarus out of him. If he hadn’t, he wouldn’t have agreed to share a dorm with him. 

Well, respect wasn’t the only plus…

Instead of saying something he’ll regret, Malorn decides to keep his mouth shut, and he works through the scrutinizing stare fixated on the back of his head. 

“ _Malorn_ …” Ceren sets down his book on the nearby, stand-issue nightstand and rolls back the blankets so that he can swing his legs over the side of his bed. “It’s a service that you’re doing for the initiates. Honestly, I admire such tenacity. However, you’re not servicing yourself.”

“Maybe you could do it for me,” he grunts dryly, rolling his eyes. 

The cough he receives is the reason he looks; the thing he sees is the reason he stares.

Green eyes hooded and heavy with an emotion Malorn can’t identify fix on the necromancer. It makes him want to squirm in his seat, and heat rushes to his face--amongst other places. Malorn watches as his roommate seems to almost glide across the room, and he can’t help it when his eyes dance down bared, tan skin from shoulders to boxers to ankles. 

Ceren isn’t an athlete, and he doesn’t have the qualities that met the standards of almost young, teenage female in their classes. However, he isn’t unattractive in the slightest. There’s barely defined muscle beneath that unblemished, copper tone, and while he’ll like never win a lifting competition, he can move like a leopard. There’s a deadly quality to the Life wizard, and it makes Malorn’s chest tighten and throat close. 

_ Undeniably bewitching--pun intended.  _

Those were the words he’d use if asked to describe Ceren Nightchant. 

Standing in front of his dresser, Ceren’s silent staring contest doesn’t end until he turns to open a drawer. “That sentence was a poor choice of words.” 

Scrunching his brow, the necromancer tilts his head slightly to think about it. What was so wrong about what he-

Oh. 

_ Oooohhhh…. _

Face turning a bright shade of pink, Malorn drops his quill on the desk and holds his hands out defensively. “That’s not what I meant, man!”

“I know,” Ceren laughs as he shakes his head. “No problem. I thought it was ironic though. If you said that and looked at a girl like that, they’d get the wrong idea.”

_ Right. A girl. Yes.  _

Malorn recalled the amount of young girls in his classes that had fawned over him. Thought students were bound to tease and fantasize about their attractive teachers, Malorn was like a messiah sent to them for their personal aspirations. On more than one occasion, he’d received love letters and gifts for every holiday since taking over the teaching position. He was young enough and mature enough to be the closest chance to realizing their fantasies than any other teacher on campus. He was the sun in a sky of stars, and the way some looked at him when he tried to get through a lesson…

In short, they disturbed him. _Deeply_. 

He’s beginning to understand how Dalia Falmea feels with her male students. 

Though, he can’t say he’s in the least bit interested in any of them. 

“Yeah…” he manages with a curt nod. “Thanks for the heads up.” 

“No problem,” Ceren replies, pulling out a pair of pants and an oni’s vestment. “Though, I really think you should reconsider.”

“It’s fine, Ceren.” Malorn flashes a smile back in his friend’s direction as the Life sage pulls on a pair of green pants. For a moment, their eyes meet again, and Malorn swears that there’s something beckoning in those green irises. 

Shaking off that nagging feeling, Malorn turns away to continue on his work. 

He does his best to ignore the rustling behind him as Ceren gets dressed. 

He does his best to ignore the image in his head...the one imagining himself undoing all of Ceren’s work. 

He does his best to ignore the way he’s shifting uncomfortably in his seat because he can’t sit comfortably anymore. 

“Last chance~” Ceren walks across the room as he slides on the adorning cape to his outfit and grabs a feathered, wide-brimmed hat from the hat stand near the door. 

Malorn looks over, melting beneath the way the green of his outfit (and the adorning, leafy embellishments to the elegant fabric) seems to bring out that dreadful look in his mossy gaze. He watches as the Life wizard stops by the mirror, straightening out dark brown strands to better shape his sharp-featured face before placing the hat upon his head. The other seems almost regal in his attire, and he can’t remember the last time he saw him in something so fancy. 

What would the occasion be? 

Glancing over his desk, he remembers the invitation sitting under a stack of papers on the corner. 

Is that tonight? 

It doesn’t matter.

“I think--” Malorn breathes as he averts his gaze to the rather dull paperwork beside him, “--that I’ll be okay here. Go ahead and have fun, man.” 

He’s not sure if he imagines it or not, but Ceren’s face falls at his statement. 

Reaching for the door, his roommate nods understandingly but refuses to make eyecontact again. Malorn wonders if he’ll see disappointment if he looks again. 

“All right. Don’t work too hard,” he warns half-heartedly, glancing briefly to Malorn and then outside as he open the magic door. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” 

“Don’t bring anyone back here, and don’t stay out too late,” Malorn jests with a playful wink, and his heart seems to sour when Ceren laughs. 

“Yeah, I’ll do my best not to bring anyone home, DAD,” he chuckles, shaking his head...though as he steps out and closes the door behind him, Malorn has the nagging feeling that that laughter he had heard was about as real as his attraction toward the opposite sex. 

**Xxx**

The hours pass by as the wax on the last candle melts into a pool of lost time. 

Above, the kookaburra clock laughs as the hand strikes 8, and Malorn puts his quill down to rub at his temples. Who would think such an annoying chime would ever be useful? Each hour comes with a screaming laugh, and it takes at least ten minutes to get back on track. 

He leans back in his chair, looking at the corner of his desk where the paperwork is thinning and that invitation lies. At first his fingers tap on the wooden arm, and then he leans forward and reaches for the stack. Lifting it up and placing it aside, he runs through the leftover papers until his hands reach the small, flattened origami salamander. Deftly, he unfolds it and reads the inscribed message. 

 

_ “Congratulations to another year passed!  _

_ Come celebrate your success at the Fire School Tower at  _

_ 5:30pm-12:00am!  _

_ Food and drinks will be provided.  _

_ Please bring your invitation to the door, if possible. _

_ Happy Yuletide!” _

Ceren mostly likely went to the party, he concludes. Although most thought him to be an introvert at heart, Ceren had always had a love for socializing...even if he did it one person at a time. He was likely the most confident Life wizard Malorn had ever met. In a way, it was as if they were opposites of the expectations of others. Most students would have bet Malorn would go to a party before Ceren. 

Then again, responsibility changes people. 

With a sigh, Malorn tosses the invitation into the wastebasket by his desk. It isn’t as if he’d need it at this point anyway. A party would be a further waste of his time. 

Ceren would likely be dancing with some mystery girl there anyway, and part of Malorn dreads the thought. He wouldn’t know what he’d do if he came to see the two of them in a secluded corner, locked at the lips. 

Nothing, that’s what. It’s not his business who Ceren decides to spend the night with. 

But...it would have been nice to have been that person, he admits to himself as he picks up his quill and dips it into the inkwell. 

However, his quill never makes it to the paper, hovering over the white sheet as the black liquid slowly begins to drip and form blotches on the otherwise bland surface. 

Giving up wasn’t like Malorn. Giving up wasn’t on the syllabus for a Death wizard. Giving up wasn’t an option. 

Something in Malorn snaps, and he’s not sure why, but something seems so fundamentally wrong about sitting here and letting fate decide. The thought of Ceren kissing someone else...is revolting in the least. He can’t fathom it. If there’s anything he can do about it, he won’t let it happen. 

Snapping the feather down on the paper-laden surface, he stands abruptly and marches toward the door. As he skips the steps entirely, he marches down the cobblestone with a plan already formulating in his head. The streets are empty, and yet his ears are ringing. 

“I had to get out of the room,” he’d say. 

“There was free food,” he’s say. 

“It is the end of the year; why shouldn’t I have fun?” he’d say. 

As he sees the fire tree, Bernie, the pit in stomach starts to garner his attention, and he stops just short of the tower’s steps…

He can’t hear any music or laughter from the door, and he knows it’s because of the silencing magic all towers are enchanted with...but it unsettles him. Not knowing what to expect causes his stomach to churn like the rivers of Northguard. He’s not even sure if Ceren came here…

No, he’s definitely here. There isn’t anywhere else he’d go. 

Well, there’s the library…

No, that’s stupid. He wouldn’t go to the library when there’s a party like this. 

But what if Ceren is there dancing with someone like he suspects? It’s not like someone like Ceren would be unwanted. He’d likely be swarming with attention. He’s cunning--the most intelligent person he knows--and kind and physically pleasing to the eye and ambitious and…

Well, what wasn’t there to like? 

People liked to comment on Malorn’s confidence and upbeat attitude. He’s a fifth year student teaching first years without an expectation or pay. Generally nice to everyone, he’s far more popular than Ceren...and Malorn doesn’t understand why. 

However, it doesn’t matter. What matters is walking through that door and finding him, no matter his doubts. 

With a deep breath, Malorn begins up the steps and turns the door handle to step inside. Silence is quickly replaced with the almost deafening roars of the crowd and the thundering music above. At the center of the room, a bonfire blazes brightly, and heat engulfs the already sweat-inducing room packed with students and faculty alike. Most of them are gathered in a circle near the front, and as he closes the door behind him, he looks around with a sense of wonder.

Around the room, the bookshelves that had once been in the Fire School Tower are missing and replaced with benches and chairs, and occasionally he can make out a table laden with foods from all different worlds across the Spiral. The embers of the center bonfire fly in impossible colors, shining on the walls like a disco ball, and if he had been here for the party, he might have really enjoyed it. 

He walks through the dancing crowd, and as he goes by, he can see a circle of students with a cleared space in the middle. They’re chanting “Go! Go! Go!” in unison, and as Malorn passes by and peeks a glance over their shoulders, he can’t help the slightest of smiles. 

Halston Balestrom is in the center, spinning on his head like a top as students cheer and laugh cacophonously. The froggy teacher does a flip backwards and lands with his tongue glued to the floor and holding him up in the air; subsequently, the crowd breaks into hysterical shrieks of excitement. 

Ever since Malistaire left, Malorn (and most students) swore that Halston Balestrom had no competition for the coolest teacher in Ravenwood. This party was just a means to prove that sentiment. 

While he stops to watch the instructor’s performance, he cringes as some of the students begin to recognize him. 

“Malorn! Malorn! Over here, Malorn!”

“Come dance with me~, Malorn!”

“Oh my goooosh, Sydney! It’s Malorn! He’s soooo hot~!” 

“Isn’t that Malorn?!” 

To the necromancer, it’s like being a fish in a flock of seagulls. Continuing on his journey through the crowd, he dips his head in some weird attempt to seem smaller, and he ignores the hands that grab at his arms when others try to capture his attention. He’s not here to party, he’s not here to dance, and he’s certainly not here to entertain his students’ fantasies. He’s here for Ceren, and that’s all he needs to think about. 

“Malorn! They’re about to have a ghoul dance off! You should come!” cries a familiar voice, and Malorn flashes an uncomfortable smile toward Nolan Stormgate. The Storm wizard waves after him, but he can only wave as he nods and continues on his way. 

Throughout the masses, the Death wizard can’t find those piercing, green eyes. All he can find are students too enthralled in their drinks and dancing to care much for his pushing and apologies. 

Where _is_  Ceren? Was he wrong to come here?

He looks back through the wyldfire of people, and the door seems much farther away than he would have thought…

“Malorn!” 

One girl in particular rushes through the crowd toward him, and he can’t seem to duck behind anyone to avoid her line of sight. Dressed in signature black clothing and eyes alight with a hope only found in first-year students, he recognizes her as one of his own...and mentally curses himself. 

He puts on a practiced smile, waving with an inner cringe. “Hello, Penny…” 

“I didn’t know you were coming!” she chirps, blushing as she clutches her hands together in front and does some sort of strange rocking motion with her shoulders. 

“I didn’t either,” Malorn jests, reaching up to run a hand through his hair. 

She blinks for a moment--as if trying to process what he said over the loud music--and then giggles. “I’ve never seen you without your hat. You have really nice hair…”

“Ummmmmm...Thank you?” He looks away awkwardly, taking the opportunity to look into the crowd again for Ceren.

“Yeah...And you have really nice skin too...It reminds me of some old caramel,” she swoons, her blush deepening as she reaches up to pull her hood a little further over her forehead. “I like it.”

“Yeeahhh...It was really nice talking to you, Penny, but I um...I’m looking for someone...So, excuse me,” he chokes out, and he moves to leave when she grabs his sleeve. 

“I-I’m sorry! I-I know that was weird!” she squeaks, eyes wide. “I j-just get s-so nerv-vous when you’re around!” 

“There’s no need to be nervous,” the necromancer manages, unable to look away from where her hand is gripping him. With gritted teeth, he lightly nudges her hand away and takes a step to the side. “You’re not weird--just quirky. That’s a good thing. I’m sure someone will really appreciate that one day.”

“Really!? Th-then you d-don’t mind?” Her eyes look up at him through the shadow of her hood, and Malorn could have sworn she looked like an abandoned heckhound. 

“No, not at all. Now, I really do-”

Penny’s squealing giggle cuts him off, and she throws her arms around him as he stiffens and stares at her with wide eyes. “That means so much to me! Thank you; thank you; thank you!”

“Heh...no...problem…” he breathes as he awkwardly pats the top of her head. He’s convinced that she purrs in response. 

“Malorn...Do you think it’s weird that I like you?” 

“No, I don’t think that’s weird at all,” he says, shaking his head as he tries to pry her off by her shoulders. 

“N-no…” She steps back, staring down as she taps the tips of her forefingers together. “I m-mean...I really like you...L-like...Like-like...you…”

“Like like? Like...you…?” Malorn blanches, blinking as he purses his lips and tries not to let his eyes sink backwards into his skull. She’s…’one of them…’ The fact makes him sick to his stomach. He knew there were students that were into him, but...

“Y-yeah...A-and um...w-would you want to...maybe...dance with me--O-or! Or, y-you don’t have to if you don’t want to...M-maybe we c-can get s-some icecr-ream over there or...um…” 

“Penny…” He breathes, and he puts on his best smile. He doesn’t know what to say, but he doesn’t have to say anything when Penny sees the conflicted expression on his face. 

“O-oh...I see...It’s okay...You don’t...um...I get it…” Penny’s own lips mirror his fake smile, and he can see the pricking of tears in the corners of her eyes. “I-I’ll see you in cl-class next semester, Mr. Ashth-thorn…” 

And he stands there in mute guilt as she gives a curt bow and hastily pushes into the crowd to get away. 

That...made him feel...so awful…

He’s left there standing for several moments, trying to comprehend what just happened. If he hadn’t already felt like a terrible person, he felt even worse when he looked over to a food table and saw Penny crying with a bowl of easy-make Jell-o…

It really wasn’t her fault…

“That was...painful to watch.”

Malorn turns around to see Ceren standing there with a half-grin. The green outfit he wears is even more flattering in this late, and he can’t help looking downward until his eyes stop below the belt and freeze in fantasizing fascination. 

“Malorn? Did I drop something?” The Life wizard looks down at his pants, looking back up with a raised brow to the staring instructor. “You look like you had way too much of Dworgyn’s punch…” 

“A-ahh...Um...Sorry. I was just...caught off guard,” Malorn excuses with a blink back to life. 

Ceren laughs, shaking his head as he crosses his arms and says, “So was I. I didn’t expect to see you here. Why’d you leave the chasm of your self-imposed slavery?” 

“I um…” Malorn glances away as he fights the heat that’s creeping toward his cheeks. He’d thought of several reasons to give when he found Ceren...but he hadn’t settled on one. “I…”

“You..?” 

“I...ran out of ink…” he says tentatively, his eyes narrowing like Ceren’s though for an entirely different reason. 

“You...ran out of ink? So, you decided to come to a party instead?” 

Malorn wishes he had his wand so he could cast a spell on himself. 

“Yeeesss…” He doesn’t even believe himself as he nods slowly. 

Ceren nods back similarly, and then starts to laugh. “You know, you could have just said you were lonely.” 

He stands there in stunned silence, deaf to the pounding music and crackling fire. Lonely? Was that what it was? Maybe… No, no maybe. It was. There could be no other reason. He was just overreacting. 

“Unless, you were thinking something else?” 

Body stiffening, the necromancer’s eyes shoot back to the smirking expression of his roommate. His heart skips a beat, and for a moment, he’s not sure whether or not he’s breathing. 

“Um...No..I don’t...Pfft, um… _No_ …” Flustered, Malorn starts to nervously laugh as he shakes his head and can’t seem to find his breath. 

Ceren’s face straightens, and he takes a sip from the drink he had been holding before speaking. “Then, would you mind if I go dance with Penny?”

He’s not sure why, but he can’t hide the almost...offended look on his face when Ceren proposes such a question. It’s quickly gone, but it doesn’t change the fact that it was there. 

“P-Penny?! Um...No, man. It’s cool. I mean, she’s nice and all…” 

“Cut the raging bull, Malorn. We’ve been friends for years, and we’re roommates. I deserve a little honesty, I’d assume. What say you?” 

Malorn, known for all the confidence in the world, seems to have run dry of courage, and whatever had been left seems to evaporate under the heat of the irritated glare thrown his direction--hotter than the bonfire itself. Paling, he looks down to Ceren’s shoes and tries to formulate some sort of response. 

He’d thought of what to say in order to explain why he left their room. However, he hadn’t known what he’d do when he got here. 

Was he supposed to dance? Confess his feelings? Leave? 

“Malorn, we’re not kids, and neither of us are the dramatic kind. Just tell me what’s on your mind, friend, and I won’t lower myself to judge you,” he says as his face softens. 

_ Friend… _

He said ‘ _friend_.’ 

The word is like a knife in his chest, and Malorn can’t find where the shards of his heart shattered. Eyes dimming, he shakes his head slowly. “It’s nothing. Just stressed from the paperwork. Nothing to worry about, my friend.”

As if by magic, the look that had befell Malorn when Ceren had used such a double-edged word now found itself on Ceren’s face. 

“Then allow me to confess something,” Ceren says. He takes another step forward, and Malorn visibly swallows as the two stand within inches of each other. “I’m tired of trying to read you, so I’ll just say it.

_ "I have feelings for you.” _

“You..?” A spark lights hope in Malorn’s eyes, and all at once, the sound in the room seems to roar to life in the necromancer’s ears. His hands twitch, wanting to touch the Life wizard--to make sure this isn’t a dream. 

“So, what do you want to do about it? If I was wrong about you, then I won’t mind if you want to change your dorm assignme-” Ceren’s voice falls when Malorn grabs his hand, squeezing it and looking at him in almost disbelief. 

His hands are shaking, and his heart is racing. If this is true then...they could have...all this time… How could he have been so blind? The looks from earlier this afternoon makes more sense. These past few months seem to be clearer. He’d always wondered why Ceren had made it a point to never be in the room when either of them changed despite being the same gender. The way Ceren’s eyes seemed to darken and his face flushed whenever a sexual joke was tossed around in passing isn’t just dark thoughts about someone else… 

He wouldn’t have danced with someone else… 

“Are you...Are you messing with me?” he manages to breath, grip light and shaking. 

“That’s a pretty messed up thing to joke about,” Ceren deadpans, and he slowly smiles as he recognizes the hope on Malorn’s face. “I’m surprised you didn’t notice. You must be dafter than I thought you were. However, I was hoping you felt the same..?” 

“I-I...Yeah! Yeah, I am. This is…” He can’t finish his sentence, so overwhelmed by the truth he thought only existed in his dreams. Gripping Ceren’s hand a little tighter, his eyes dart from Ceren’s, to his lips as if to consider...and then away to search the green abyss again. 

Ceren smirks, raising his free hand to pull the hat off his head. As he does, the short strands stand on end and seem to frizz upon contact with the outside world. Yet, somehow, his bangs fall in such a way as to frame that intense, emerald stare, and Malorn finds himself transfixed and leaning forward. 

Their first kiss is a seed in the soil. Gentle, hesitant, and much too short, it’s a nerve-wracking start into new territory. 

Their second kiss is the sprout that soon followed, and their third and fourth and fifth and many others to come were all the flower that grew and grew like their desperation and desire to devour the other before they both woke up. Hands fly, clinging to clothes and groping whatever they can find because they haven’t quite figured out where they’re comfortable with staying yet. Around them, the party dies down to background noise, replaced by sounds much more carnal than either are aware. 

Cliche as it is, the world around them seems to disappear, and they’re lost in the ecstasy of each other’s passions. 

_ “Ahem…”  _

As abruptly as it had begun, their bodies break apart and they stand straight as most of the other students in the room. Faces darkened by mad blushes and eyes wide in terror, they stand before Professor Cyrus as he hits his specter in the palm of his hand and looks down the bridge of his nose with a less than...amused expression. 

He doesn’t say a word, only shaking his head as he takes his specter and points it to the door expectantly. 

Malorn swallows, glancing at Ceren who does the same, and with a nod (as he’s unable to say anything at this point), he turns on tap and marches outside with Ceren in tow…

**Xxx**

Ceren and Malorn sit on their beds on opposite sides of the room in shared horror. 

“That was…” Ceren begins. 

“...awful?” Malorn looks up from the shoe he took off on the way to his bed and left in the middle of the floor. “Embarrassing? A nightmare?”

“Well...It wasn’t AWFUL...It could have been worse…”

“We basically made-out in a crowd of young teenagers in front of our entire school, our professors, and we’re probably going to get reported to Ambrose for disciplinary action...likely separated into different dorms..?” Malorn gives Ceren an incredulous look, more kicking himself than Ceren. Half the fault was his...though he was sure it had to at least be 60% on his own part. If he’d just to confessed to his feelings a lot earlier…

“Well, we’ll see the damage later,” Ceren sighs, looking up from the book had unsuccessfully been trying to read in some half-hearted attempt to ignore his deep-seated terror. “At least it was...enjoyable for a while.”

Malorn’s smile starts to return as he glances away again and then back to Ceren. “Yeah...it was…”

“I’m glad you feel that way...I was afraid that you were more interested in those poor, vulnerable first-years,” he teases, chuckling as Malorn throws him a deathly glare. 

“That’s not funny. I still feel bad about that.”

“She’ll get over it; they all do,” he states as he shrugs and returns to his book. 

Malorn pauses as he leans against the headboard of his bed and thinks for a moment… “Would you have?”

“Would I have what?” he asks, looking back up. 

“Would you have gotten over me if I hadn’t felt the same way?”

Ceren pauses in thought. Glancing down at his book for a moment, he runs over the answers in his head before finally settling on one. “I don’t know. Maybe. But that’s not something I think I’ll have to worry about anymore.”

“Fair enough,” Malorn laughs, sliding out of bed as he reaches over to blow out the candle on his side of the room. “We can talk more in the morning. I’m beat. I think I’d just like this night to be over so we can start over tomorrow morning…” 

“Is that so?”

Ceren closes his book with a thud, his smile growing into something only a sinister Death wizard should have. Eyes fixed on Malorn, he sets his book aside slowly as he speaks--deliberate...every action and syllable accented. 

“Tell me, Malorn...are you really going to sleep in your _own_ bed?”

Malorn’s smirk grows to match Ceren’s, and he sets his blanket down. 

_ “On second thought…” _  
  
  



End file.
